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He slides two fingers inside me, curling them, and my words dissolve into a moan. He's filling me, stretching me, his tongue still working my clit with relentless precision.

“Come for me,” he commands against my flesh, his breath hot. “Now, Cora. Let go.”

His fingers curl deeper, his tongue flicks once, twice, and I shatter. The orgasm crashes through me like a wave, my body trembling as I bury my cry against the chair.

I’m still trembling when I hear the sound of his zipper behind me. A drawer opens, followed by the familiar tear of a condom wrapper.

Roman’s hand settles on my hip. “Still with me, princess?”

“Yes.” I push back toward him, wanting more.

He enters me from behind in one slow, controlled movement, giving my body time to take him before his grip tightens on my hips. My back bows as I moan into the seat, my body still sensitive from the orgasm he just pulled from me.

“Fuck.” Roman's hands grip my hips. “So tight,” he grits out, his pace increasing. “So fucking perfect. You were made for me, princess. Made to take my cock. Made to come apart on it.”

His words send me spiraling. I can feel another orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly, and I cling to the seat, my nails digging into the leather, my legs trembling with the intensity of my reaction.

“Roman, I'm going to…”

“Come with me,” he commands, one hand slipping between my thighs. His fingers circle my clit as he moves inside me, giving me exactly the friction I need. “Now, Cora. Let go.”

The combination sends me over the edge. My body tightens around him as the orgasm crashes through me harder than the first.

Roman follows me over the edge with a rough groan, his body tensing behind mine.

For a long moment, we stay like that; joined, breathless, completely undone. Roman's forehead rests against my back, his chest heaving, and his heart pounding.

Chapter Six

Roman

I wake before the sun.

That isn’t unusual for me. Years in the military trained my body to wake at the slightest shift in sound. And even after leaving that life behind, some habits never disappear. Usually, when I open my eyes, the apartment is silent, and I take a few minutes to enjoy it before getting up.

This morning, I don’t because Cora is in my arms. For several seconds, I lie still and look at her. She is curled against me with one arm draped across my chest, her wavy black hair spread over my pillow and her breathing slow and even. Somehow, over the last week, this has become normal.

After our first night together, I had tried to maintain some distance. I told myself we would keep sleeping in separate rooms, that whatever was happening between us could stay contained if I created enough boundaries.

That lasted exactly one night. Now, waking up without Cora beside me feels stranger than waking up with her. I’ve always needed space, even with the guys. Sometimes I need silence. Sometimes I need to be by myself. Sometimes I need to know that no one is expecting anything from me.

Cora should disrupt that. She is everywhere. And I don’t fucking mind. That’s the problem. I look forward to finding her in my bed. I look forward to coming back from the tattoo shop and hearing her voice from somewhere inside my apartment. I even find myself thinking about what she’ll be doing while I’m gone.

She has blended into my life so easily that I barely noticed it happening. She has also blended in with everyone else. Cora has that effect on people. She is outgoing, energetic, and completely unafraid to speak her mind.

And somehow, despite everything happening with her father, she hasn’t allowed fear to take all of that away from her. The sadness is there. But she keeps going. And every day, I find myself falling a little further.

I tighten my arm around her. Cora shifts but doesn’t wake. My chest tightens. Dan is one of the few people outside 4R Ink who knows what we really do. He knows enough to understand that I am not exactly the man most fathers would imagine for their daughter.

Especially not their only daughter. If he knew what had happened between Cora and me, I have no idea what he would say. The guilt twists inside me. But then Cora moves. Her ass pushes against my cock as she shifts.

I go completely still, my cock hardening. She shifts again in her sleep, and my jaw tightens. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter.

Her eyes flutter open. She blinks sleepily. “Morning.”

I don’t reply. Instead, I grab her chin, my intent noticeable. Cora’s breath catches as I pull her closer, and when our mouths meet, every thought in my head disappears.

The kiss is deep and claiming, my tongue sweeping through her mouth like I'm marking territory. She arches against me, her body seeking friction, and I groan at the contact, her heat against my cock.